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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24400036">To Be Alone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeteranKlaus/pseuds/VeteranKlaus'>VeteranKlaus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Prostitution</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:07:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24400036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeteranKlaus/pseuds/VeteranKlaus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It is three in the morning on a chilly day in November, and a sign catches Klaus' eyes.<br/><i>Owner can't care for me. I need a new home.</i><br/>And, well. So does Klaus, but the dog sitting in front of the sign looks cold and hungry (so is Klaus) and no one else is going to look at the thing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1385572</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>306</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To Be Alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the bad things happen bingo prompt: loneliness.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is three in the morning on a chilling day in November, and Klaus has nowhere to go. It has only just stopped raining, thankfully, but he still got caught out in it for too long and his clothes don’t offer much protection from the elements either. One of Klaus’ hands holds his wet coat tighter around himself and the other one holds the remnants of a joint to his lips as he greedily inhales, hoping it will take the edge of this miserable situation off a little.</p><p>And, well, it does, a little, which is what he wanted. He flicks the butt away when there is nothing more for him to smoke, hearing it sizzle faintly againstly the wet ground, and then he continues staggering down the street.</p><p>It isn’t his fault that he missed the shelter curfews. It isn’t his fault that he failed to get a stranger’s bed, either. And plus, with the shitty weather out, fewer people were out; including dealers, and so he had spent most of his time making money and stocking up on drugs in case he couldn’t get some for a while, and, much to Ben’s displeasure, he would rather risk being stuck out in a storm than go sober for a week.</p><p>And, well, his pockets are heavy with drugs, and there is not a single ghost around – not a single one, Ben included.</p><p>Apparently, Ben is <em>still</em> fed up with seeing him fuck dangerous strangers for money that go straight to poison that he either snorts, ingests or injects and showing no real care for himself or his life, but really, he should be used to that by now. And Klaus is used to Ben going off for a while, getting fed up with him, going to visit their siblings or doing whatever else Ben does without Klaus.</p><p>Klaus is not used to Ben being gone for a week, however.</p><p>Fuck him, he thinks. Klaus doesn’t need his little dead brother following him around, judging him all the time. It’s not like Ben has ever actually helped him. Ben can’t chase away the dangerous people he meets, Ben can’t bring him food, Ben can’t keep the other ghosts away – so, therefore, Klaus does not need Ben and his grey cloud of misery and judgement, making everything so much more depressing.</p><p>(That’s a lie – mostly. Ben can’t fight the dangerous people he hangs around with, but he can tell Klaus when an obviously angry man is glowering at him. Ben can’t bring him food, but he can remind him what shops nearby offer out their untouched food, and what dumpsters haven’t been emptied yet. He can’t fight off the other ghosts, but he can talk Klaus down from his panic attacks over them.)</p><p>That doesn’t mean he needs him, though.</p><p>Still. He blames the shitty weather and the hunger in his stomach that has been building up for a while for making him feel so down. Honestly, he thinks it’s a little pathetic, too. He could pop a pill and forgot about the depressing nature of the world, rather than just walking about dirty city streets, stoned and miserable and just making himself feel more sorry for himself. Not the fact that the only non-malicious person in his life has left him. Klaus has plenty of other people he can talk to. Only, those conversations typically involve drugs or sex or rude words thrown his way.</p><p>Ben has not been around for a week. Klaus has not had a real conversation in over a week. His brother’s prolonged absence always only works in emphasising how… alone he can be, in a way. It’s just him against the world. Allison is in Hollywood, Vanya is elsewhere, Luther is on the moon, Diego told him never to talk to him again. The last friendly interaction he had with anyone else was when he got out of a car and the man inside told him that his mouth made him useful for something rather than the typical conversation where his customers like calling him useless and pathetic. It was a refreshing change. As far as friendly interactions go, he thinks that one might be a bit of a stretch, but he can’t be picky.</p><p>He isn’t trying to dig himself deeper into this miserable little pit he’s gotten himself into, but it’s a harsh truth to face, that no one out here actually cares about him; no one’s got his back, no one cares about his wellbeing, no one would miss him if he were to disappear or to die in some dirty alleyway. It’s just himself and Ben, and without Ben then it is just him and all of the judgement and shit thrown at him. Sometimes he can lie his way through it all, wearing a façade, convincing himself it doesn’t matter and that it doesn’t hurt. Sometimes he can’t.</p><p>He dares to risk a glance up at the dreary sky overhead, narrowing his eyes up at the dizzying display of clouds. If he were a betting man, which he is, he would bet that it will be raining again within the hour. Which is great. Fabulous. At least now he can probably go a little longer without a shower. In joy, he kicks a bottle across the pavement and watchs it skid away from him.</p><p>He should go find somewhere to stay, at least until places begin to open up in the morning. Perhaps he can get in early at a library later, but for now he has to find somewhere else, and preferably somewhere sheltered. It would also probably be easier if he wasn’t high and so focused on his thoughts that he forgot to carry out the actions, but – he can’t afford to be very picky.</p><p>There is nowhere indoors for him to go to. Perhaps a semi-sheltered doorway, then, but those are a little more risky, being exposed out on a main street. Alleyway, then, and therefore it is either going to be behind or inside a dumpster.</p><p>With heavy feet Klaus drags himself further down the street, eying alleyways. If Ben were here, he’d be able to tell him which dumpsters had been emptied recently, offering a smaller chance of it being disgusting and unhygenic. But Ben isn’t here (Klaus doesn’t need him anyway) and it will do for a few hours.</p><p>As he staggers his way down the street, his eyes search out the next alleyway, deciding that will be his home for the night, he notices something. He can’t see all that well thanks to the broken streetlight offering no help, drowning the place in darkness, so he keeps going forwards until he can.</p><p>A cardboard sign is propped up against a wall, soggy with the rain and the writing on it is only just still legible.</p><p>
  <em>Owner can’t care for me. I need a new home.</em>
</p><p>And beside that sign, curled up against the wall with its leash wrapped around the pipe attatched to the building, is a dog. It is shivering slightly, obviously damp, curled up into a tight ball, and doesn’t give Klaus any attention. Klaus wonders if it has only been put out here today, but it looks just on the wrong side of skinny to suggest it has been out here for at least a few days, tied to the pipe, unable to go anywhere and neglected by anyone walking by. It is probably used to being ignored and expects the same from him.</p><p>Klaus has seen a lot of strays in his time on the streets, of course. Cats, dogs, suspicious looking pigeons that must have been trained at some point in their lives. Most don’t tend to stick around him, but sometimes he comes to a little agreement with him; they sit across one another, Klaus, if he has food, will give them some of it, and they’ll coexistent in peace. Sometimes they might come close enough to him so he can stroke them, and if he’s lucky they might even curl up next to him. If he falls asleep with them nearby, they’re often always gone by the time he wakes up.</p><p>Klaus has not seen an abandoned pet, however.</p><p>He should keep going. It’s not like he can care for it in any way. However, if it keeps being ignored and remains tied up to that pipe, then he doesn’t stand a chance. It’ll be hard enough for it if it’s a pet, too, but at least if its not on a leash then it can go out and get food for itself.</p><p>So, Klaus crouches down and begins scrutinising the leash until he can tug it off. At the motion the dog, a some mixed-breed that he thinks vaguely resembles a boxer in some ways, lifts its head up and stares at him with big brown eyes, and he offers a smile to it.</p><p>“Hey, buddy,” he says, reaching for the leash around its neck and tugging it off. “Don’t you worry, you’re all good to go now.” His fingers linger nearby it and so he indulges his urge to stroke it, carding his fingers through its wet fur and the scruff on its neck, and the dog wags its tail.</p><p>Klaus feels utterly miserable; physically and emotionally, utterly drained, and the fact that he is about to go sleep in a dumpster only makes him feel even more depressed. So he really can’t stop himself when he sits down on the pavement, encouraged by the way the dog seems more eager now, wagging its tail faster and lifting its head to nose at his hands. His grin widens with its energy and it chips away at some of gloom surrounding him, lighting him up. The dog’s fur sticks up when he strokes it and its tongue dashes out to lick at his fingers and Klaus giggles.</p><p>“You’re so nice,” he cooes. “Who left you all out here? I’m sorry.” There isn’t a collar on the dog, simply the leash, one of the ones that wraps around their necks in place of a collar. It hangs from his hands and he drops it beside the sign before eying it. He lost his belt. He does need something to replace its job as tournequet…</p><p>He tucks it into his pocket and his fingers brush something as he does so. “Oh!” He exclaims, perking up. He eyes the mutt, squirming happily by his knees, waiting for him to stroke it again, and he purses his lips before pulling the thing out from his pocket.</p><p>He found it from a trashcan earlier, at some point today. An untouched sandwich from subway, wrapped up. He had planned to eat it whilst lounging in his dumpster, had been eagerly awaiting it, really, because he hadn’t eaten in a while now, but nor had the dog.</p><p>He unwraps it and sets it on his lap, tearing a piece of and holding it out. The dog eagerly eats it up and goes to sniffing at the rest on his lap, but still wanting at least a bit for himself, he tears bits off little by little, offering them out to the dog, but eventually he just gives up and lets it eat the whole thing.</p><p>“I can find more,” he tells it, stroking its face as it finishes eating. “And how could I say no to your little face? Aw, you’re adorable.” He ducks his head down to come to eye-level with it, grinning, and it licks his nose. Klaus laughs and moves away slightly, nose scrunching up, and he continues simply stroking the mutt and enjoying how much it seems to like him, how friendly it is.</p><p>And then he feels a drop on his hand. He frowns, lifting his head up to glare at the dark sky over him, but it hardly takes a couple of minutes for rain to start coming down, and he knows it will only get heavier.</p><p>Groaning, he rises to his feet, using the wall beside him to push himself up. He stares into the alleyway and then down at the mutt by his feet, wagging its tail, staring expectantly up at him.</p><p>“Well… you can’t just sleep out in the rain, can you?” He says, glancing around. He feels a little guilty; this dog deserves to be indoors, warm and comfortable, not kicking around a dirty alleyway with an equally dirty drug addict.</p><p>The dog doesn’t seem to care.</p><p>Swallowing down the sudden tightness in his throat, Klaus continues on down the alleyway until he reaches the dumpster in the back, relieved to see the lid closed – it should be dry inside, then. He opens it, and is further pleased to see it almost empty. He eyes it, then looks at the mutt still by his side, wagging its thin tail and hitting his leg with each swing. He gestures for the dog to step back a bit, backing it up, and then he grips the dumpster and pulls. He reaches across, grabs the back, and keeps pulling until it crashes onto its side, sending the dog skittering a few steps away before cautiously coming back, looking between him and the tipped over dumpster.</p><p>“C’mon,” he says, shaking his head to dismiss a raindrop from his eye. He calls the dog forwards, strokes its head in reward and gains its trust again, and then he crawls into the dumpster, over crumpled up paper and miscellaneous trash. None of it seems to be food or anything particularly unhygenic, thankfully, and half of it fell out when he tipped it over anyway. The dog eyes him warily from outside the dumpster, sniffing at the edge, and it takes several moments for it to actually come in as the rain gets heavier outside, tapping against the metal walls around him loudly. The dog doesn’t seem to like the noise, but Klaus runs his hand repeatedly along it until it calms down.</p><p>His head is fuzzy with his high and he listens to the rain as it batters down around him and the chill in the air makes him shiver and curl up tighter in on himself. The dumpster is uncomfortable and cold and if he weren’t high and exhausted then the sound would be giving him a headache.</p><p>That same miserable feeling begins to seep back into his bones along with the cold and dampness and the hunger and he can’t help but let his mind stray depressingly. He imagines a bed, and not in a stranger’s apartment or a motel; a bed of his own, in a house of his own. He imagines blankets and pillows and the mindless drone of a television and imagines turning up the heating as it gets cold, imagines listening to the gentle patter of rain against his window and being comfortable and oblivious to what it is like outside.</p><p>He imagines his siblings. Luther, watching stars and galaxies in peace, and Allison, sitting with her husband, cuddling together, watching a nice movie – one without her in it. He imagines Diego, coming back after a day at the police academy, throwing his shoes and coat aside, getting comfortable and making himself a coffee to heat up, and he imagines Vanya, playing her violin, the melody trapped within the walls of her apartment. He imagines the lives they have, and he wonders if they even think about him at all now.</p><p>It is better if he pushes them away, but he can’t help but wonder if Diego will look out the window and clench his jaw and tell himself Klaus is staying in a shelter or in a stranger’s place tonight, perfectly fine. That Vanya might let her thoughts stray to him as she listens to the rain get heavier and wonder how he might be doing. That Allison might take off her makeup before slipping into a comfortable bed and remember how they used to do makeup together after curfew when they were young, and if she might think about him for a little bit.</p><p>Probably not, though. Klaus is in his own world; separated by the walls they reside comfortably in. His world is alleyways and dumpsters and clubs and strangers, something they’ll never see or step into or hardly think about.</p><p>He wonders where Ben is and what Ben is thinking. If he’s with one of their siblings and content watching them live their life, or if he is staring at the rain and knowing Klaus is either in a terrible state in a stranger’s bed or in a terrible state in an alleyway. He wonders when Ben might come back. He hopes it might be soon. Klaus suddenly feels terribly isolated from the entire world, as if he is the only person outside on the entire planet right now, an outsider, all alone.</p><p>But then the dog beside him shuffles closer, curling up tightly next to him, plopping its head down on his chest and blinking at him in the darkness.</p><p>It is just a dog, he knows. Just a dog he’ll never see again, some random animal that has no idea what he’s thinking, but – it is grateful for the food, and it wags his tail when he strokes it, and it leans closer to him for comfort – it likes him. It appreciates him. It trusts him.</p><p>Klaus tucks his head down close to it, cradling its head against his chest, and it is him against the world and he is a nobody to everyone on the street and to his own family, but not to this dog, not in this moment, and the dog is suddenly more significant than anyone else for him too, as if it might face the world with him.</p><p>It falls asleep against his chest, happy and content, pressed up against him, offering him a little heat. He’ll smell like a wet dog, but he can’t bring himself to care. He curls up next to it, one arm over its back and the other still idly stroking its head, hugging it like a child might hug their teddy when afraid or upset, and his chest shakes a bit and his eyes sting and the dog huffs and shimmies closer to him, tongue dashing out to lick his cheek briefly, before it falls asleep again.</p><p>Klaus screws his eyes shut and lets the weight of its head on his chest push him down into sleep, in that dumpster in the rain, unknown to anyone and everyone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Babie.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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